


bleachers

by pxlarity



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Gay Disaster Marco, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxlarity/pseuds/pxlarity
Summary: A compilation of high school love stories featuring my favorite football ships. They all take place in the same universe, but each chapter focuses on a different ship.
Relationships: Rafael "Rafinha" Alcântara/Neymar, Robert Lewandowski/Marco Reus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Neymar/Rafinha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar is the star football player of the school and Rafinha is a member of the red cross club.

“Ugh, how are all the guys in the football team so hot?” Daniela fawns. She rests her head on her hand as her eyes follow a particular forward. “I'm especially liking that guy with the black and blonde hair. He has the nicest smile.”

The aforementioned guy stops running when the ball is out of play. He looks towards the stands and smiles, though it’s not clear to whom.

“I think he just smiled at me,” Daniela says again, eyes twinkling as she looks at him.

Rafa just sighs. “You think all good looking people are smiling at you.”

Daniela looks at her friend and pouts. “A girl can dream, alright? I can't help that there are too many good looking people in the world.”

Rafa just rolls his eyes and gets back to scrolling down his Twitter feed. Daniela grumbles at her friend for ignoring her, the game, _and_ the guys. She would complain, but she knows exactly why Rafa’s doing it, so she leaves him alone. 

The halftime whistle blows in what seems like a short time. The score is still nil for both of the teams.

It sucks, but for Daniela, at least Rafa is being more talkative now. She looks up from her phone and pulls on the sleeve of Rafa’s shirt. When he looks back at her, she giddily shows him a picture of the school’s men’s football team. It’s from one of the players’ Instagram, but Rafa doesn’t even bother to read the cringy username.

“So Rafa, which one's your type?”

“Eh,” he shrugs, eyes scanning over the picture. “I don't know if I'm into football players.”

Daniela looks distraught for some reason. “What do you mean? You live and breathe football, why wouldn't you like football players?”

“Maybe it's just our school,” Rafa shrugs again.

“Seriously?” Daniela asks as she looks over the players again. “Not one of them interests you? Come on, they're all legitimately attractive.”

“Well yeah, they're hot, but I don't know, I kind of prefer guys who cook.”

Daniela looks at him incredulously, as if he grew another head. “Guys who cook? I mean okay, but maybe one of these guys cook _and_ play football.”

Rafa lets out a soft laugh at his friend. “Why are you so desperate to hook me up with one of these guys? I'm just here to make sure they're not injured, okay?”

“Hmph fine, I'll take all of them if you don't want to,” She says, sticking her tongue out. “And don't get mad at me later alright? Remember, I offered.”

“What- are you going to create a harem or something?” Rafa asks, still laughing.

Daniela cracks a smile and nods. “Yeah, might as well with all these hot guys running around.”

Rafa shakes his head at her ridiculousness. “I swear to god, yesterday when we were watching the girls’ team play you said the exact same thing.” 

“I mean if _I'm_ going to be forming a harem, then of course there's got to be guys and girls involved. That's the tea,” Daniela smirks and Rafa can practically see all the cogs turning in her head.

It’s at moments like these that Rafa genuinely thinks he’s friends with an evil genius.

Before Daniela can finish explaining her rundown for world domination (and forming a harem), the second half starts. 

Rafa almost immediately goes back to looking at his phone. Before he can even tap on the Instagram icon, Daniela pulls at his arm, almost making him drop his phone. As he’s just about to protest, Daniela coos, “Oh Rafa! Rafa! Look at that guy! What a hunk!”

She’s looking at a guy in the middle of the pitch, again, eyes twinkling. Rafa didn’t see the guy at all in the first half, so he seems to have just been subbed on. He’s got a very flashy haircut on top of his blonde hair and he has this confident smirk that makes it seem like he owns the whole pitch. _He’s definitely the superstar type,_ Rafa thinks.

“Isn't he a bit skinny to be called a hunk though?” Rafa says instead.

“Maybe,” Daniela says, already swooning over the newcomer, “but that's some big dick energy if I've ever seen one.”

Rafa just shakes his head at her words and goes back to his phone. Daniela watches the game more intensely now. Not just because the new guy’s hot, but also- Rafa realizes- he’s really damn good. Hell, even the crowd is more lively now. Although his eyes are on his phone’s screen, he can’t help but to catch glimpses of the new guy. The way he plays is like his hair, flashy, but that’s what makes it so good to watch.

The crowd groans when the new guy’s shot hits the crossbar. 

Daniela glances at Rafa and finds that he, for once, is kind of paying attention to the game. A smirk forms on her face. 

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally paying attention.”

Rafa is caught off guard when she says that. “What? No- I was just- you know- bored of what’s on my feed.”

“Oh please Rafa, we didn’t just meet yesterday. Do you really think that you can lie to me?” Daniela chuckles.

“I’m just- he dribbles really well, okay? It’s hard not to watch,” Rafa mumbles, eyes already back on his screen.

Daniela’s smirk becomes even wider and she says in a mocking tone, “You sure this one's not your type?”

Rafa rolls his eyes and huffs. “I don’t know. He seems like the star player though. That’s a bit too much attention for my liking.”

Daniela is just about to say something when the crowd gasps collectively. Daniela’s eyes go wide and she points at the pitch. “Oh shit Rafa, he fell!”

Rafa finds the flashy guy writhing in pain on the ground. “Oh fuck, that seems like a bad tackle. Okay, okay, I have to get there.”

Rafa immediately rushes toward the guy, a first aid kit slung around his shoulders.

“Take good care of him, okay?” he hears Daniela say.

Rafa rolls his eyes but huries there anyway. He gets to the fallen player's side and kneels down beside him immediately.

“Where does it hurt?” he asks, hands on the guy’s thighs.

In between his grunts, the guy says, “Fuck, I think I pulled my hamstring again.”

-

Rafa looks at the guy laying on the infirmary bed. He has done all that he can really do for now. There’s already an ice pack on the guy’s hamstring, so Rafa has another twenty minutes until he can check how severe the injury is. 

He really doesn’t know what to do in the meantime.

“Hey, thanks for helping me,” the guy suddenly says.

Well, it seems like Rafa does have something to do in the meantime.

“You don't need to thank me,” Rafa says as he pulls out a medical bandage from the first aid kit. “I'm just doing my job. That's literally what I was there to do.”

“Still, thanks,” the guy says with a smile. “So, what's your name?”

Rafa finally meets his eyes. It’s a bit nerve-wracking since the guy practically oozes charisma and confidence, even in the state he’s in. 

“Rafinha, but you can call me Rafa too,” he says, returning the smile. “You?”

The guy looks taken aback. He blinks a couple of times before he says, “Me?” 

“Yeah, your name?” 

“Oh,” he says, still looking stunned, “my name's Neymar.”

And now Rafa kind of understands why he’s so surprised. 

“I see. So you're _that_ Neymar, huh?” Rafa asks, chuckling.

“I guess?” Neymar says. He’s smiling in this really charming way that Rafa can’t comprehend and he looks… amused. “But- what do you mean by _that_ Neymar?”

“Well, I've heard your name a lot before,” Rafa starts, “but I never bothered to actually find out which one you were. No offence. You must be shocked that someone in the school doesn’t know who you are.”

“You don't follow my Instagram? Or at least opened my profile before? Typed my name in the search bar?” Neymar asks, genuinely shocked.

“Eh, just never got around to it. I actually thought you were the other guy, you know the one-” Rafa tries to describe the other Brazilian forward in the school’s team, but fails to find the words to do it.

Neymar cuts him off, “Wait so you- you actually don't know me?”

“Uh…” Rafa laughs nervously because this guy is seriously _that_ confident, “am I supposed to?”

Neymar seems to realize how narcissistic he sounds and wipes the stunned expression from his face. Rafa wants to laugh, but he still has at least 15 minutes more with Neymar, so he probably shouldn’t risk offending him in any way.

“No, sorry, I just kind of assumed that- you know, since the football team is one of the most well known sports teams in school, most people would know me,” he says, finally out of his state of shock.

“Oh well, yeah, sorry, I don't really watch football in person anymore. I watch it on TV, but that's it. I was just there today because I was on duty from the red cross club.”

“And,” Rafa adds, “I don't really search for or follow people who I don't know personally on social media.”

Neymar looks at Rafa, confused. He sits up a little, brows furrowed. “On TV, but not in person? Why?”

Rafa sighs, wondering if he should tell his life story to someone he has just met. For whatever reason, he does. “Well you see, when I was in middle school I had a pretty much career ending injury. Not allowed to do anything like football anymore if I want to keep walking.” 

Rafa turns around a little to show him the operation scars on his legs.

“So uh, if I watch games in person, I tend to really want to play again because I miss it. The feeling. The atmosphere. It makes me feel... sad and lonely in a way. So I just try to avoid that all together.”

“Fuck, I'm sorry to hear that,” Neymar says. And it almost sounds like he actually cares, even though they barely know each other.

“It's fine,” Rafa says, smiling sadly, “I loved football. I still do. It's just that I like to wonder sometimes about what could've been, you get me?”

Neymar mirrors his expression. “Yeah, totally. I'm sure you would've been great.”

“Guess we'll never know now.”

There’s suddenly a heavy silence in the infirmary. Rafa already regrets telling Neymar about himself. What kind of brilliant idea was it to share your tragic football career with someone who you barely know and have to spend the next twenty minutes with? 

Thankfully, not a minute later, Neymar speaks. “What do you do with your time now then?”

“The usual ‘teen’ stuff. School, homework, assignments. Watching movies, Netflix, football matches. Hanging out with friends, finding good places to eat. Do stuff for the red cross club,” Rafa says, listing his daily activities. “Pretty typical, I guess.”

“Anyone in particular keeping you busy?”

Rafa doesn’t really understand the question, so he asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you seeing anyone?”

And now, Rafa is even more confused. Is Neymar- of all people- really asking him that?

His brain turns on again and he says, “Oh. No, I haven't been in a serious relationship in awhile. I just spend most of my time with friends.”

“Right, right,” Neymar says, looking pensive, “are you interested in seeing someone or…?”

Rafa’s beginning to understand where this is going. He doesn’t really have a good explanation as to why he’s responding to it (he knows this is screaming _trouble_ for him), but something in him just- wants to. Rafa knows he’s playing a dangerous game. He doesn’t really know Neymar apart from the rumors, apart from this 5 minutes of conversation, but he just feels so inexplicably attracted to him.

“Well, ever since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend a few months ago, I haven't really been actively looking. If someone were to come up, eh, I'd give it a go.”

Neymar raises his eyebrow. He looks intrigued. “What happened with your ex?”

“Nothing crazy. He was the goalie at my old school. After I got injured and subsequently moved, we just couldn't really handle the distance. We're all good though, no hard feelings or anything. Some things just don't work out,” Rafa explains and he’s proud that it doesn’t feel painful anymore to bring it up.

“Well,” Neymar says, his eyes looking intently at Rafa, “that's a shame.”

Rafa gulps. Neymar’s gaze makes him feel like he’s about to be ravished.

“You sound like you don't really think that,” he replies, unusually bold.

“I _am_ about to ask you to go catch a movie sometime, so I guess it's not that much of a shame, hm?” Neymar says, smiling at him sweetly.

(It’s smooth, almost as if he has planned this all along).

Though he knew exactly where the conversation was going, he still isn't ready to actually hear it. He looks at Neymar, eyes wide. “Wait, you're asking me out?”

Neymar chuckles at the reaction. “Yeah, would you like to go out with me sometimes?”

“I- you’re actually asking me out?” he asks in disbelief. Neymar just nods and Rafa is speechless for a while. When he gets his shit together again, he (rather spontaneously) says, “Damn, alright. I mean, yeah, why not?”

Neymar looks pleased and Rafa feels something like a rush of adrenaline in his veins.

“Wait,” Rafa says, coming to his senses, “shouldn't you be more picky about who you ask out when you're so- you know- popular?”

Rafa is well aware of the unspoken rules of the social ranks in high school. Neymar is unquestionably one of those who are at the utmost top of it. People on top tend to be- cautious- to hang out and more so, date, people who are ‘below’ them. It just- doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for Rafa that Neymar, who just met him, would ask him out like this.

“I am picky,” Neymar admits, “but not because I’m… popular or whatever. I just am. And I’m genuinely intrigued by you. It’s really that simple.”

“Okay so you're curious, but-”

Before Rafa can continue, Neymar says, “No seriously Rafa, I- I like you already. It doesn’t matter who I am, I just- I want to get to know you.”

Rafa can’t believe that he blushes at that. But really, what can he do? Neymar looks at him so sincerely that he can’t find it in him to ask further questions. His heart is beating so fast and he’s even got butterflies in his stomach. Still, he worries about himself because there’s too many ways that this can go wrong.

Neymar is still looking at him, expecting a reply.

Rafa considers changing his answer, but he can’t. So he convinces himself that he’s not an idiot. He’s sure that he’ll know if Neymar is just messing around with him. He’ll know if he’s going to get his heart broken. And he’ll be able to cut this off if ( _when_ , Rafa thinks) he needs to. He’ll at least enjoy it for a while, right?

He clears his throat and says, “Well then, what's not to try?”

He takes a deep breath and asks, “When and where?”

Neymar is smiling again and Rafa is so damn charmed. The atmosphere is suddenly light again.

“Don't you want to follow my IG first? I'll DM you.”

“Is this a scam to get followers?” Rafa asks, chuckling, but he hands Neymar his phone anyway.

His Instagram is already open, so Neymar types his name into the search bar, opens his profile, and hits follow. He looks up at Rafa and grins, “Maybe it is.”

Rafa grins right back. “Then you gotta follow back to prove it's real.”

Neymar opens his phone and taps on the notification. He follows Rafa back immediately. He holds his phone up, showing Rafa the proof. And then he, no joke, winks at Rafa, saying;

“Done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


	2. Robert Lewandowski/Marco Reus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco earns a favor from the school's most sought after bachelor. 
> 
> or
> 
> Gay disaster Marco.

“Hey, what the hell?!”

Eyes turn when Marco yells in the midst of the quiet library. His hand visibly shakes as he picks up a comic book from the table. It’s wet and dripping with coffee. He doesn’t even care that it’s dripping on the pristine floor. The thing is; it’s not just any comic book. It’s a collector’s edition, made by his favorite comic book artist, which Marco spent  _ months  _ saving for. So he has every right to be pissed off, doesn’t he? Hell, Marco’s so pissed that he doesn’t even want to look at the person who knocked his coffee over.

“I- I’m so sorry,” says the culprit in an apologetic tone.

It sounds genuine, and he has such a modulated voice that Marco almost wants to let it slide. But then he looks at his comic book again. Nope. Turns out that he can’t forgive this- this crime- so easily after all.

“This is a collector's edition comic book, how could you?” Marco asks as he flips through the damp pages of the book with despair. He takes out some tissues from his bag and (poorly) attempts to dry it.

“Oh... really?” the culprit asks, sounding more guilty. He’s just standing there, not knowing what to do. “I’m so so sorry. I really am. Should I- can I pay what it was worth?”

“There’s no use,” Marco sighs, eyes still stuck on his comic book, “there are only a couple of these in the world and the other owners sure as hell won’t sell it. I’ll just… try to dry this and salvage it I guess.”

Marco knows that anger and sadness, or even money, can’t do anything about his ruined comic book. He still refuses to look at the person who’s standing in front of him, afraid that he’ll only get more pissed off if he does. Marco’s not really the type to get into fights, but if he’s ever getting into one, it’ll probably be over a comic book.

“Just go,” Marco tells him coldly.

The culprit is silent for a while. Marco sees the guy tightening his fists from the corner of his eyes. Just when Marco thought that he was about to be yelled at, he instead hears, “Ah… I’m really sorry, but I still feel bad. What else can I do to make it up to you?”

“It’s fine,” Marco insists, annoyed by the guy’s persistence. He takes a deep breath and finally looks up to the standing figure. “There’s nothing you can-”

Marco finally looks at the person and his words get lost in his throat.

Look, he can’t help that he likes attractive men.

“I’ll do anything, really,” the guy- the damned Disney prince looking guy says, looking at him with an expression full of guilt.

“It’s- it’s you,” Marco stutters, eyes wide.

The guy looks at Marco, confused. “It’s me?”

“You’re the top student,” Marco says, heart suddenly beating fast. His grip on the comic book loosens as he recalls that he just yelled at this guy. He just yelled at one of- if not the most popular guy in school and he becomes painfully aware at the eyes of people judging him. “You- you’re Robert Lewandowski, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” Robert rubs his nape, embarrassed at Marco’s use of the ‘top student’ title. His little embarrassed smile makes Marco’s heart jump within his rib cage. Robert doesn’t seem to notice just how struck Marco is. “But uh, what about your book? I really- I don’t know what I can do to make it better.”

Marco flushes, suddenly not knowing what he should say. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just try to dry it and it’ll be good as new,” he says, completely contradicting himself.

Robert frowns and still looks  _ beautiful  _ somehow. “Do you really think so?”

“Well,” Marco says, looking away in an attempt to calm his heart down, “not really, but what else can I do?”   


Robert takes a step closer towards the table Marco is sitting on. Marco feels like he’s going to faint. Robert places his hand on the table gently and says, “Then, if I can’t replace the book, is there anything else that I can do for you? Anything, really.”   


And of course the first direction Marco’s mind goes to is to an inappropriate place. Marco can’t help it, okay? Robert Lewandowski is in fact the most sought after bachelor in the whole school. He’s nice and smart and handsome and good at sports and really, all you could ever ask for in a guy. Marco knows perfect humans don’t exist, but Robert is the closest he has ever seen to one. And now he has (some) control over this angel of a human being.

Marco opens and closes his mouth, gaping like a damned fish, because he feels like he has way too much power in his hands. There’s really so many ways he can answer the question to his advantage, but he genuinely can’t think of one good thing. He’s so intimidated by Robert’s friendly but intense gaze, that he blurts out, “Well, I- no. I don’t think there’s anything.”

“Are you sure?” Robert asks, tilting his head in what looks like concern. 

Marco may or may not look like he’s having a panic attack right now. 

“Positive,” Marco says, nodding way too quickly.

Robert still looks concerned, but he just nods back. “Okay then, I owe you one…” he pauses, “uh, I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Marco,” he replies, attempting to smile like a normal person. “Marco Reus.”   


When Robert smiles back, it’s a miracle that Marco doesn’t faint right then and there. With his incredibly charming smile, he says, “I owe you one Marco. If you ever need anything, just tell me.”

Marco doesn’t say anything. He just nods dumbly at the words, his brain turning into mush. Robert seems to realize that Marco isn’t really functioning properly at the moment ( _ hopefully he doesn’t know the reason _ , Marco thinks), so he calmly takes out some tissue from his bag and kneels down to clean up the splatters of coffee on the floor. Marco should probably help him, or at least do or say something, but he’s currently in a state that can only be described as ‘gay panic’. So he just watches Robert like an idiot.

And damn him, Robert even makes wiping the floor with tissue look graceful.

When he’s done and stands back up, Robert smiles again at Marco. He politely says, “Well then, I better get going. I shouldn’t disturb you any further.”

Marco manages to mutter a small ‘okay’. Robert keeps the polite smile as he bows a little (as if he wasn't already so prince-like). Then he turns towards the exit and starts walking there. Robert hasn’t even walked three steps when Marco is suddenly hit by the realization that he might regret this for his whole life.

“Wait, actually-” Marco starts and Robert turns around.

Marco’s gay. And he’s not an idiot (he is). He’s not going to waste his chance to spend time with the school’s hottest bachelor. Even just for a couple of hours. He glances at the content of his bag and an idea pops into his head. It’s crazy that the idea didn’t come to him sooner. It’s just so obvious. Robert is the smartest student in school, so why not ask him for help with his studies?

Robert looks at him, head tilted, expecting Marco to continue.

“I- I need help studying,” Marco says, trying to put an expression that’s not forced or awkward. “You’re really smart right? Maybe you can help?” He smiles and adds, “If you want?”

Robert blinks a couple of times. “Of course I can,” he says, returning the smile. “What subject do you need help in?”

“Well, I was going to study math just now,” Marco lies, because he’s here for nothing else but the air conditioner and free wifi. “And I- I just really don’t understand the newest material the teacher just taught us.”

Before Marco knows it, Robert is already sitting beside him. He screams internally and his mind is going ‘ _ What is happening? What is happening? WHAT IS HAPPENING? _ ’ over and over again. Meanwhile, Robert makes himself comfortable. He places his backpack on the floor and takes a notebook and a pencil case out of it. When he’s done preparing, he looks at Marco, again with that charming smile of his.

“So? Which subject matter are you having a hard time with?”

Marco never thought that he would be able to look at Robert Lewandowski at this distance. Let alone talk to him like this. He pushes himself to stop panicking and stammers, “W-wait, we’re starting now?”

Robert nods calmly. “The student council meeting was cancelled. I have free time now, so it’s fine.” He looks at Marco with a concerned look again ( _ fuck, I must look that crazy _ , Marco thinks) and says, “Unless you don’t want to do it now?”

“No, no,” Marco immediately answers. He doesn’t really have anything better to do either (not many things are better than spending time with Robert Lewandowski anyway). “Now is perfectly fine,” Marco quickly assures him.

Robert chuckles at him and Marco suddenly can’t breath. He picks up a pen and smiles at Marco. “Well then, let’s begin.”

It’s not that Marco doesn’t want to see Robert smile, but he might just kill Marco if he keeps doing that.

Marco has been so charmed for the last few minutes that he completely forgets about his comic book. When he catches sight of it, his eyes go wide.  _ How the fuck did I forget about the comic book?  _ Marco mentally scolds himself. “Okay,” he says to Robert, “just one second.”

Robert just nods and watches as Marco replaces the stained tissue on the comic book with a new one. He also slips a couple more tissues in between pages, hoping that it would absorb more of the coffee. In the back of his head, he wonders if ruining his precious comic book is worth the time he’s getting with Robert.  _ Probably not _ , he thinks,  _ but it’s definitely not a bad compensation for it.  _

As soon as he’s done with his comic book, he finds that Robert has really just been watching him. God, he hopes that the warmth on his cheeks isn’t showing. Marco clears his throat and says as calmly as possible, “We can start now.”

“Don’t you want to take your books out first?” Robert asks, raising an eyebrow. 

If he weren’t already blushing, Marco’s sure he is now. How is he this stupid?

“Oh. Right, haha, silly me,” Marco awkwardly replies, immediately cringing at himself after.

It would be a miracle if Robert doesn’t think he’s a weirdo, but to his surprise, Robert… laughs. He doesn’t just politely chuckle or smile, he  _ laughs _ . It’s not loud like Auba’s, or funny-sounding like Mario’s, instead it’s- captivating. It’s light, genuine, and sounds just right. Marco manages to take his eyes off Robert and looks away to hide his flushed cheeks. He pretends like he’s doing it just to take out all his books and stationery, but his hands are literally shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Robert says in the midst of his laughter, “You’re just- how do I say this- like a cat?”

Marco’s cheeks become even brighter somehow.  _ Like a cat? What the hell does that even mean? _ He thinks.

Seeing Marco’s reaction, Robert quickly explains himself, “Wait, no, it’s not an insult or anything. I have a pet cat and you remind me of him, in a cute way.”

The rest of the sentence blurs in Marco’s ears until the phrase ‘ _ in a cute way _ ’ is the only thing he hears.  _ Did he- did Robert Lewandowski just indirectly call me cute?  _ He asks himself. He mentally pats himself on the back because turns out that being a gay disaster can be advantageous after all. There’s no way he’s going to forget that compliment (?) for the rest of his life. When he realizes that Robert is expecting a reply, Marco just nods, not knowing what to say.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, let’s begin studying now,” Robert says, stopping his own laughter and opening one of his notebooks.

Marco nods again, not wanting to embarrass himself any further. Robert’s notebook is filled with neat notes, structured in a way to make studying it effective _. No wonder he’s the top student _ , Marco thinks as he opens his own, less beautiful, notes. It takes him a while to properly speak up and talk to Robert like a normal human being, but when he gets there, the study session actually becomes useful.

Like, Marco now understands things he previously didn’t.

“Wow,” Marco says after he finishes yet another difficult question, “it’s the first time that I haven't hated studying math.” 

“When you understand it, it’s quite fun and challenging, isn’t it?” Robert asks, smiling as he glances over Marco’s answer. He traces his index finger over the lines on Marco’s notebook and Marco watches, realizing how long and beautiful Robert’s fingers look. When he reaches the last line, he looks at Marco and proudly says, “This one’s correct too.”

Marco can’t believe that he just did that. When else has he ever finished a difficult math question by himself and gotten the answer right? In elementary school, maybe? He’s genuinely so lost in the studying that his nervousness due to the fact that it’s Robert Lewandowski teaching him dissipates. He’s fully relaxed and concentrated somehow. Maybe it’s because he has such a brilliant teacher.

“So, do you get the material now?” Robert asks, head leaning on his hand. He looks… pleased? Marco doesn’t quite understand the expression, but Robert looks like a model whatever he’s doing anyway.

“Yeah,” Marco nods in disbelief, “that was kind of- fun and exciting even.”

“Glad you had fun,” Robert says, lips curling into yet another charming smile.

Now, because Marco has pretty much mastered (yes, mastered) the material, he doesn’t really know what to say or do. He still can’t believe how well he understands this seemingly impossible thing now. Neither of them say anything for a while and just as Marco was considering to call it a day, Robert suddenly speaks.

“How are your grades Marco?”

Marco blinks. He takes a moment to think of the answer. “They’re- well, standard, not too good, but not too bad either. I- I need it to get better though.”

“For uni?” Robert asks, fingers tapping on the table as he looks at Marco.

“Yeah,” Marco replies, shrugging, “something like that.”   


Robert just nods, his gaze leaving Marco. Marco lets out a breath he doesn't realize he’s been holding.  _ The things this guy does to me _ , Marco sighs mentallly. His relief doesn’t last long though. Out of the blue, Robert says, “I can continue helping you if you want.”

“You- what?” Marco asks, barely believing what he’s just heard.

“I ruined your precious book after all. I still feel guilty about it,” Robert answers, as if that makes any damn sense.    


Marco, despite being ecstatic hearing it, rejects him. It just- doesn’t feel right. He’s glad that he got this one in a lifetime opportunity, but he doesn’t want Robert to feel  _ that  _ indebted to him. It’s just cruel. Marco shakes his head, saying, “No, no, doing this is more than enough. I don’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re busy. You have to study, probably go to lessons, and you’re a student council member too right? So-”

“You don’t bother me, Marco,” Robert says, looking back right at him. Considering Marco’s point about his busy schedule, he just shrugs. “And I’ll figure things out and make some time for you.”

Marco is so in awe of the words coming out from Robert’s lips that he wants to faint. Because- did he even hear that right?  _ I’ll figure things out and make some time for you _ , the words echo in his head. Did- did Robert really say that? To him? Not to anyone else? Is this a dream?

At this point, there’s no way Marco can hide how flustered he is. He stammers, not knowing what he wants to say, “But well, I-”

“I insist,” Robert assures him. He places his hand on the side of Marco’s left shoulder and the spot immediately feels warm. “I want to help you, and you’re a good student. Teaching you is quite fun.”

And what else is Marco supposed to do when Robert goes as far as saying those things?  _ Want to help you, good student, quite fun,  _ the words float around in his head. Marco is so struck that he just gives up on thinking at all and says, “I well- okay.”

“We can arrange it over the phone then?” Robert asks, smiling as he takes out his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Uh,” Marco pauses for a moment. He’s genuinely out of breath. It’s like his heart stopped for a few seconds there. When he manages to speak again, he mutters, “Yeah, I guess. I don’t have your number though.”

“Oh right,” Robert says, chuckling a bit.  _ How am I not dead yet?  _ Marco thinks to himself. Before he knows it, Robert is handing him his unlocked phone. “Here, enter your phone number and I’ll enter mine in yours?”

“Yeah, of course,” Marco says, head nodding probably too frantically. His movements are automated as he unlocks his phone. His head continues to spin and his heartbeat increases more and more.

They exchange numbers in relative silence. They both get their phones back and Marco can’t even bear looking at Robert anymore. His face must be so red and at this point, Robert might even be able to hear his heartbeat. Marco swears that, though it’s biologically impossible, his heart is trying to leap out of his chest. When he finally dares to look at Robert, he finds the latter smiling at his phone screen.

He wonders what he’s smiling at because it’s just- his contacts.

When Marco realizes the implications of fit, he genuinely feels like he’s going to faint. There’s no way Robert is smiling at his- at Marco’s contact right? No, no, absolutely no way. His mind can’t even begin to comprehend it. At some point, Robert notices that Marco is looking at him. For the first time on that day, Marco sees Robert lose a bit of his composure. The latter’s cheeks have a tinge of pink on it and his fingers stumble as he turns off his phone and places it back in his pocket. He packs the rest of his belongings too. 

Robert clears his throat and says, “Alright, see you around then.”

“Y-you too,” Marco replies, finally looking at Robert properly again. Because, as wild as it seems, it looks like he’s not the only one flustered here.

Robert sits up and smiles at Marco before walking away, backpack slung on just one of his shoulders. He walks with the grace and composure of a prince, as he always does. Marco is still completely stunned, he looks around the library, wondering if the dreamscape is about to collapse soon and if he’s going to wake up on his bed. 

He doesn’t.

By now, the shock has ceased and the sheer- joy of the situation has sunk in. Marco lets out a couple of short breaths in relief and a wide smile forms on his face. All of this gives him a push of bravery, so he loudly says, “Thank you for today!”

Robert looks back and he- he looks almost just as happy as Marco. He mirrors Marco’s smile and nods, saying, “It was a pleasure.”

Sure, Marco gets a couple of  _ looks  _ from various people around the library, but what the hell- why should he care? Robert Lewandowski, the man of his dreams, the man of everyone’s dreams, is expressing genuine interest in him. Marco feels like he’s on cloud nine, like he could just die a peaceful death now. Or not- because he really wants to know where this’ll go. 

Anyway, Marco thinks as he packs up his stuff, Marco has to tell Mario  _ everything. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I love love love writing gay disaster Marco.


End file.
